


Black, Green, Red

by wynnebat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Getting Together, Horcrux Hunting, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Second War with Voldemort, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 09:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: "I don't want just a wartime romance," Harry said, bluntly. His heart was beating too fast for his chest. He hadn't intended to say it. It felt as though he had stood on a precipice for years and there was nowhere to go but down, spreading out his arms and hoping he had wings. "The war is going to end one day. I intend to be around when it does."Sirius gave him an approving look. "Good. You deserve to have the life you want."Deserving didn't play into it, exactly, Harry thought. Just hope and maybe some dumb luck. Sometimes, he thought Sirius felt it too, but he could never be sure. He knew that Sirius would never make the first move. And Harry wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.





	Black, Green, Red

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Kafian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kafian/pseuds/Kafian) in the [SirryFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SirryFest) collection. 



> Written for Kafian's prompt over at the [Sirry Summer Fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SirryFest/profile)! Prompting is open until July 31, 2019, so feel free to join in by leaving a prompt and/or creating a fanwork for one of the prompts. There is also an event [tumblr](https://leather-and-sex-ficfest.tumblr.com/) and [discord](https://leather-and-sex-ficfest.tumblr.com/post/184994735625/join-the-lightningstar-discord-server).

Perkins' tent would drive any self-respecting person mad.

While every cat portrait, figurine, and doily had been unceremoniously shoved into a cabinet, the smell of cat and wet fur lingered. Harry liked to joke that Sirius was behind the smell of wet fur, but even after multiple airings out of the tent, it had refused to take on a better scent. On the upside, it didn't smell of the two accidental fires they'd started inside the tent, either. The walls of the tent were striped, as were the floors. If one stared at them long enough, as one did when in between periods of running for one's life, they almost seemed to move.

All in all, the tent may have sustained life, but it didn't endear it.

"I'm going for a walk," Hermione said again, same as she had every day since Ron left. Ron's disappearance had seemed to be her breaking point. A week later, she was still as angry and unhappy as that very first day.

Harry couldn't blame her. He could still worry. "Be careful."

He watched Hermione leave with a hollow feeling in his chest. Asking her to stay would only result in an argument. They'd had enough of those. Harry blamed the one cat portrait they couldn't find a way to pry off the wall of the tent. It was right above Hermione's bunk and a source of mild but constant irritation. Hermione passed the locket to him before she left. That was another constant irritation—and there was nothing mild about Voldemort's horcrux. With a deep sigh, Harry wrapped the chain around his wrist and glanced toward Sirius.

"Tea?"

"Do we have any left?" Sirius asked, dubiously. But he rose from his bunk, stretching as he walked, all long, lean lines. "Don't look so glum, Harry. That's my prerogative."

The tent's kitchen had seen better days. Those better days were probably a decade ago. Still, Harry was more comfortable with this kitchen than Grimmauld Place's, which had the occasional piece of cursed silverware and a scoreboard of muggle-baiting etched into one of the cupboards. Harry glanced gloomily into the cooling cupboard. There was a stack of sandwiches, those being the height of his, Sirius', and Hermione's cooking abilities while under considerable stress and financial strain.

While Sirius put the kettle on, Harry slumped into one of the chairs.

"I just don't get it," Harry grumbled, chin resting on his hands. The locket dangled from his wrist like a pendulum. He dropped it onto the table, shoving it aside. "She's the one who's always going on about safety and extra precautions. The safest place is inside the tent."

"Grimmauld Place was safe, too. Didn't mean I wanted to stay there for another second. This could be the most comfortable tent in the world and she would still miss him and want to be alone."

Harry watched Sirius prepare the tea. After all these months in one confined space after another, it was second nature to them to know the way they all liked to drink it. Sirius had even picked Harry's favorite teacup. All to a one, the teacups were decorated with pictures of sleeping, running, and meowing cats. This particular teacup's cat was dark-furred and fluffy. Something about its eyes reminded Harry of Sirius. Ron's cup sat unused in the cupboard, while Hermione's sat on top of a pile of books near her bunk.

"I miss him, too," Harry grumbled. "I'm still angry at him for leaving, but he's my best mate. Of course I miss him."

Sirius set the steaming teacup down beside Harry and took the chair next to his. Their knees knocked against each other once in the cramped kitchen before Sirius found the space to stretch his legs. "Not in that way you don't."

"Don't remind me." Harry blew out his disgruntlement over his teacup, sending the steam Sirius' way. "They're my best friends. I don't know why they have to complicate things now instead of a year ago."

Taking a sip, Sirius said, "If he comes back, I hope he brings some sugar. We're out again."

"Because you keep dumping it all in your tea."

"I'll have you know Hermione favors it, too," Sirius said loftily. "Feelings are tough even in the best of circumstances. War makes things both easier in a way and infinitely more complicated in other ways. It's too bad that Ginny isn't here—you could have yourself a wartime romance."

"I think Ginny would disagree."

Harry resolutely did not say that his and Ginny's breakup hinged on the fact that Ginny had too much self-worth to date someone who spent more time writing letters to Sirius instead of planning their dates. Or the fact that Harry's habit of meeting Sirius in Hogsmeade every Hogsmeade weekend hadn't sat well with Ginny. She hadn't actually told him her reasons why, just sat him down and said it wasn't going to work out. Harry had been crushed and relieved and guilty about being relieved all at once.

At the time, he'd still been clinging to denial over how much he wanted Sirius, but in the months of being on the run together, his denial crumbled brick by brick. Harry had never been particularly good with feelings, but there was only so much time in Sirius' company he could spend before realizing he had it bad.

And that was even before they'd fled to live in the tent, where Sirius slept shirtless in the bunk next to Harry's.

Harry's denial died an agonizing death. It was replaced by awkwardness, mortification, and a horrible understanding of Ginny back in her eleven year old starstruck crush phase. Sirius was nowhere near perfect—moody at times, still recovering from Azkaban, in dire need of a haircut—and yet Harry couldn't find it in himself to look away.

Always curious about Sirius' life, Harry asked, "Did you have a wartime romance?"

"I sure did," Sirius said, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "Several, in fact. Lily would always pretend to be disapproving and then grab a bottle and order me to tell all. There's a certain kind of person who joins the Order—young, stupid, and determined—and there were enough of us that there was more than enough gossip to go around. Your parents themselves might not have finally started dating were it not for the war—the deaths of James' grandparents, then his parents, did a lot to mature him into the kind of man your mother could fall in love with."

There was a note of sadness in Sirius' voice. Harry studiously convinced himself that he was only offering comfort when he reached out to rest his hand on Sirius' forearm. He didn't have far to reach. It was a small table and Sirius was already so close. 

Sirius met his gaze, his eyes warm. "Even Remus had a wartime romance or two."

"He has one now," Harry reminded him. "I call dibs on godparenting."

"With enough luck, he and Tonks will be more than a wartime romance. And you're twenty years too late. He bartered godparenting duties to me and Peter in exchange for letting him study for his NEWTs in peace. As Peter is a sniveling traitor who will be dead by the war's end, it's up to me to step up as godfather." Sirius looked terribly, attractively smug.

Harry had complicated feelings about Sirius' role as godfather in his own life. Namely, that Harry would have no other, and also wished it weren't just one more barrier to his feelings. But Sirius would be an excellent godfather to the tiny little baby that would be born in the coming months. Even if Harry had to follow Sirius around all through the war, he would make sure that Sirius would live to watch his second godchild grow up. He wanted so many things for Sirius—good, soft, happy things, the kind that Sirius refused to want for himself. Whether because he thought he didn't deserve them or because he'd forgotten how to deserve more.

Harry already almost lost Sirius once back during his fifth year; when Voldemort didn't commandeer his dreams, he sometimes had nightmares of not having been close enough to grab Sirius before it was too late. Harry had gripped him so tightly that both of them almost fell in. Even if they'd had, Harry wouldn't have let go. Later, after Voldemort had fled and Dumbledore revealed the truth of the prophecy to Harry, Sirius hugged him just as tightly.

Nearly two years had passed since then, and Harry realized his hand was still resting on Sirius' arm.

"I don't want just a wartime romance," Harry said, bluntly. His heart was beating too fast for his chest. He hadn't intended to say it. It felt as though he had stood on a precipice for years and there was nowhere to go but down, spreading out his arms and hoping he had wings. "The war is going to end one day. I intend to be around when it does."

Sirius gave him an approving look. "Good. You deserve to have the life you want."

Deserving didn't play into it, exactly, Harry thought. Just hope and maybe some dumb luck. Sometimes, he thought Sirius felt it too, but he could never be sure. He knew that Sirius would never make the first move. And Harry wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

Harry pushed aside first his own teacup, then Sirius'. His motions were deliberate. Sirius still made a noise of surprise when Harry kissed him, no matter how slowly Harry did it, not wanting to spook him. Harry had no idea why; it felt inevitable. His self-control had never been particularly good when it came to what he really wanted. And this? It was just about all he wanted, second only to the end of the war and the survival of the people he cared about.

For one heart-stopping moment, Sirius kissed him back. Then he pulled away. Not far, but enough to say, "We shouldn't do this."

"Yeah, okay," Harry agreed. Sirius' grip on his shoulder was loose. Harry kissed him again.

Sirius didn't resist. He ran his hands through Harry's hair, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his back, as though he couldn't contain himself for a moment longer. Harry was in his lap during Sirius' next token attempt to say no. "I mean it. We're not doing this. I'm your godfather. I should've raised you better."

Harry huffed. "You didn't raise me at all." He kissed Sirius again. Just as Sirius' willpower began to return, Harry said, "It can be a wartime romance if you want." Harry would never knowingly let the war go on for a moment longer than it had to, but he would wring every moment of this that he could if Sirius agreed. He would deal with his heartbreak after the war. "Or it can be anything else you want."

"Don't give me a blanket promise," Sirius said, grip tightening enough to sent heat running through Harry's body. Outside, it was winter, but Harry couldn't feel the sting of its chill. Not even Sirius' eyes were cold. They were just the opposite. "You know better than that, Harry."

"I really don't," Harry promised him. He kissed him once more, gently, until Sirius gave up the ghost, pinning him against the table in a way that had shivers down Harry's spine.

The only thing that could have stopped them was—

Hermione's voice as she stepped back within the warded area around the tent.

Harry made a soft, strangled sound that had nothing to do with what Sirius' hands were up to.

"Later," Sirius said, placing one last kiss on Harry's lips.

Harry didn't move. He wasn't about to let go until he knew that Sirius wouldn't be too busy castigating himself to do this again. "You're sure about this?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I've been sure about this since—" Harry paused. "—younger than you'd be comfortable with me saying. I'm sure."

Sirius ran his hands down Harry's body once before placing his hands on his knees, knuckles prominent as he kept himself from touching Harry again. "I have my reservations, Merlin knows, but..."

"But?" Harry asked, grinning. He could do little else at the way Sirius looked at him, with enough heat to melt the snow outside.

"I want this, too." Sirius matched Harry's grin with one of his own, a little softer, more tempered, but just as strong. "Now move before you give Hermione another reason to try to kick me off the horcrux hunt."

Harry did so, scrambling to make it before Hermione pulled open the tent. "She likes you more than she used to."

Even if, more than anything, Hermione had promised to accept Sirius because she saw how much Harry cared for him. Harry never wanted to choose between Sirius and his friends; with their agreement, he would never have to. 

It was only then that Harry wondered who Hermione was talking to. Surely she wasn't speaking to herself. He stepped out of the kitchen area and into the living room just to watch Hermione and Ron step through the doorway. They were flushed, smiling, and holding hands. Harry, who had a finely honed sense of when his best friends were getting up to something without him, had a feeling that their reunion had been an interesting one. He also had a feeling that their tent wouldn't be able to handle a single ounce of more sexual tension, but at least it beat missing Ron.

"Look who I found," Hermione said, pulling Ron further into the tent. "Or rather, he found me on my walk."

Ron took a few steps toward Harry and spoke first. His words were all in a rush, as though he needed to get them out before Harry punched him. And maybe Harry would have had he not already had gone through all the emotions he could handle in one day. He was silent as Ron said, "I'm sorry, Harry. I tried to find you. I really did. Apparated back the very next day, but you and Hermione had already moved the tent. I regretted it every single day I was gone, and not only because my brothers gave me hell for it. I shouldn't have done it."

Harry looked to Hermione, who had obviously already forgiven Ron, and gave in. He knew he would do it anyway. He couldn't stay mad at Ron for long. Hermione was better at it than he was and her forgiveness said a lot. "I'm glad you're back, mate. There's always a place for you here."

Ron let go of Hermione to hug him. It was a good hug. A bit too close.

"Are you—"

"Happy to see you."

Ron pulled back and glanced between Harry and Sirius, who stood a few steps behind him. "I was gone for _one week_."

Harry clapped Ron on the back. "A lot can change in a week."

When he looked back, he found Sirius looking back at him. Later that night, Harry would have to see whether the two of them could fit onto one of the tent's rather narrow bunks, and maybe find a way to avoid seeing or hearing Ron and Hermione do the same. But for now, they all made their way back to the kitchen to open Ron's parcel of home-cooked meals, tentativeness and anger giving way to relationships that would last a lifetime if Harry had anything to say about it. For all that war still raged outside their tent, Harry had all he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> (And then everyone including Remus and Tonks live happily ever after and Harry/Sirius co-godparent Teddy and everything is beautiful.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm also on [tumblr](https://wynnefic.tumblr.com/).


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